


Cleanse and Scour

by NamelessDragon



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Bondage, Canon Compliant, Chains, Collars, Creepy Frostmaster, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Implied Gangbang, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Missing Scene, Multiple Partners, Non-Graphic Violence, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgies, Past Torture, Power Imbalance, Scars, Sexual Content, Sort of anyway, yours truly coming up with another convoluted whump idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25397134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessDragon/pseuds/NamelessDragon
Summary: Soon after Loki arrives on Sakaar, the Grandmaster offers to have him undergo a procedure to remove some scarring. There are one or two worrying side effects.
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki, Loki/others
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	Cleanse and Scour

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the answer to a prompt from [led-lite](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/led-lite), who asked for some Loki/Grandmaster with the phrase "Why are you staring at me?" This is the third down of the prompts I received last December. Continuing with the trend of the others, I took a simple phrase that was meant to be a brief ficlet and turned it into a huge jumble of physically and psychologically complicated whump.

It began, more than anything, with a feeling. 

Not that Loki was at any given time in lack of those. Sakaar’s more intense recreational delights frequently left him with less surety of his surroundings, and a hazy memory concerning the actions performed whilst partaking, but he always seemed to be distinctly aware of - if not always in control of - his emotions. 

The Grandmaster liked it best when his people engaged, either socially, violently, or sexually. Thus far Loki had been quite enjoying the social aspect, finding it a pleasant coating to cover his life’s most recent stressors, surrounded by people who not only seemed to genuinely like him - but were, almost immediately, beneath him in the hierarchy that came with such a chaotic planet. 

He wasn’t anything quite like a king, at least not yet. But he was sowing the seeds, and quietly gaining information so he would have some choices on how best to achieve that end eventually.

Keeping the Grandmaster’s interest was luckily not much of a challenge. It wasn’t even work, really, considering the man’s life was one of unending play. Tiring, certainly. Terrifying, occasionally, and especially during the brief periods when the Grandmaster’s irritation crested through his jovial expression, and someone ended up melted. Or worse.

But Loki was extremely used to navigating the needs of the powerful and short-tempered. The Grandmaster was by no means the worst he’d experienced in that area. As long as one put even an ounce of effort into keeping him happy, he would stay happy. 

That did not stop it from being entirely disconcerting to find himself naked, splayed out on a bed that felt like it was large enough to fit a dozen people, only to notice the Grandmaster _frowning_ as he looked down at Loki’s body.

A snare of barbed dread tightened in Loki’s chest. This was not usual. He kept his voice polite; the Grandmaster liked that. “Is there a problem, Grandmaster?”

“Hmm?” The Grandmaster looked up towards Loki’s face, the frown disappearing immediately, as if he was surprised Loki was still there. “Oh, yeah, of course, yeah, the - sorry, just having a thought here.”

Loki exhaled in relief. He attempted to appear receptive - difficult, when you were stretched out, expecting to be fucked, and the second party had just spent several seconds staring in clear discontent. “About?”

A hand reached down, tracing his chest, the Grandmaster’s golden robe falling open with a shimmer as he brought a leg up to perch on the bed. “Well, it’s about these marks, actually. This one, especially.”

Alarm shot through Loki; he jerked his head up. Where before the scars on his body had been covered with a glamour to give the illusion of smooth, unblemished skin, there was now a ragged red line of puckering bisecting his chest.

He stared at the Grandmaster, the dread within him pulsing again at this casual dismantling of his spell. He hadn’t even _felt_ it come apart. And the Grandmaster had made no gestures, spoken no words of invocation.

Loki took that new knowledge, and placed it very carefully at the forefront of his mind. He would need to use extra caution in his eventual schemes. 

The Grandmaster pursed his lips, seemingly unaware of Loki’s nervous expression. “It’s not - I mean, no offense, that little bit of magic cover-up was really, uh, inspired. It’s just a little… _tacky_ , is the word I’m looking for.”

“Oh,” Loki said, and hated that spear of shame that filled him at the Grandmaster’s disapproval. “It was only...habit. I can do away with its use easily.”

He wondered if he should feel more relieved that he hadn’t been stripped down further, to the blue that lay beneath. Wondered if the Grandmaster was already aware of it. 

But he only looked at Loki’s face, seemingly taken aback. “Oh, don’t apologize! It’s not like _you’re_ responsible for what that pesky biology of your body does when it tries to keep you alive. You’re still a stunner, hon. I can… _more_ than work around this.” The Grandmaster closed his statement with a suggestive wink, reaching for Loki’s cock. “Now, come on, let’s get you started up.”

Loki’s responding smile was shaky, relieved, and eventually dispersed in favor of a far more stimulating use for his mouth. But the niggling in the back of his mind remained, like a leech that had crawled inside, threatening to swell.

\-------------

As he expected, that had been only the beginning.

A few days later, the Grandmaster swanned into Loki’s quarters while he was readying to join him at that night’s fights. “Hey, Lokester, do I - boy do I have some good news for you. The R&D department has officially finished rustling up a solution to your uh, your corium conundrum.”

Loki froze in the midst of adjusting his new cape - yellow, because the Grandmaster had not so subtly implied he would like Loki to get on board with the general color scheme, which as far as he could tell, was ‘blindingly garish.’

He roughly cleared his throat, turning on his heel, and was met with the Grandmaster’s wide and brilliant smile. “My…pardon?”

“Corium conundrum!” The Grandmaster gestured emphatically at Loki’s body. “The parts of your cutis that aren’t so cute…is.”

A laugh was expected, or perhaps a praise of the Grandmaster’s wit. Loki obliged, choosing the former, though it sounded weak to his ears. His hand raised up to rub at his chest. 

He hadn’t missed this feeling of being wrong-footed while on the receiving end of poor judgment. He’d almost hoped it wouldn’t have been the case on Sakaar, where everyone thus far had at least _pretended_ to like him without question. 

Loki was beckoned to in excitement. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come on, come on, everything’s set up.”

“Everything? Already?” Loki fell into step beside the Grandmaster, and felt an arm wrap around him to squeeze at his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I had R&D put all of their resources into it,” the Grandmaster proudly proclaimed. “Nothing but the absolute best for my best guy.”

He meant that he had ordered his research department to spend all of their time and resources on finding a way to erase Loki’s physical flaws. 

Loki tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. That was…fine. Helpful, even. He had always prided himself on his appearance, and now there was the very real possibility that he would never have to concern himself with spelling away the marks of damage ever again. At least until he managed to acquire new ones.

All of the mental acrobatics required to convince himself that this was in his best interest fled the moment he saw the room where his ‘treatment’ would take place. It was mostly innocuous, with clean white floors and bright blue walls. A thread of the odd music that the Grandmaster enjoyed played softly from a machine nearby. An expansive hot tub filled with crystal clear water was set in the corner near a wide window overlooking the city. The air smelled of what Loki assumed was meant to be herbal, or flowery, but somehow ended up a distant, chemically-scented cousin. To most appearances, a luxurious spa - if a luxurious spa that had been created on an artificial trash planet.

The glaring clue to otherwise was the device in the center, a long metal table of pure white with splashes of bright artwork in the form of swirling yellow loops and hard red angles. Glass arched over it in a cubic shape, lines of silver etched into its surface. There were crescents of magnetized metal resting inside that looked like they would just about fit a body of Loki’s size. And there were, distressingly, what looked like an assortment of complicated torture devices on some shelving beside it.

The Grandmaster’s hands clapped loudly over Loki’s shoulders, making his heart shoot firmly upwards into the back of his throat. “Here we are! Now just, just pop off those clothes - _love-love-love_ -ing this new cape, by the way, definitely want to see you wearing it again later - maybe it and nothing else, if you know what I mean.”

It was happening too fast, and Loki did not even quite know what it was. He felt a wave of dizziness - he’d been _hoping_ for a relaxing evening of watching simple savage bloodshed and some drinking, ending in him being loosened up enough for the after-party…

The Grandmaster frowned at his hesitation, that same look of discontent he’d given Loki days earlier. The same look Loki had seen him aim at criminals before their lives were - often spectacularly - ended.

Loki froze, and wondered if he’d miscalculated that badly. He’d been doing fairly well, he’d thought. Had carefully adjusted himself to the Grandmaster’s moods. Had been granted the man’s enthusiastic approval for company. But now he was simply being tentative - had not even spoken a clear _refusal_ -

He stopped his panicked thoughts, taking them and pressing them down into a box. He was being unreasonable. The Grandmaster was not holding the melt-stick, and his bodyguard was nowhere to be found. From what he’d seen in his, admittedly short time on Sakaar, the ceremony of their use was something that had been consistently implemented each time the Grandmaster was displeased.

It was entirely possible that the Grandmaster was just trying to help. That Loki was viciously trying to keep hold of marks that he couldn’t even bear to see was his own problem.

To allow it would be to his benefit. A final blow against the enemy that had marked him. Kurse’s particular death had crushed the creature’s atoms, leaving no remnant of his body. After this, there would not even be a scar left to remember him by.

“Thank you,” he said, swallowing thickly. “What will be required?”

“You’re excited, aren’t you? Me too.” The Grandmaster made eager curling motions with his fingers, staring down at the device. “This is going to just open up all kinds of new treatments, new ways for people to enjoy themselves. Here, come on, take off your clothes and lay here.”

He reached down to press some mechanism. The glass case retracted and the metal restraints unclamped. Loki stayed back, his mind reeling. 

This time, the Grandmaster did not notice, still going on with his excited ramblings. “We’ll have to numb you up a bit, first, it’s not exactly the most, ah, painless of procedures. Unless - you’d like some pain? Maybe? You do seem enthusiastic with the rough stuff, which I absolutely love about you. Or we can wait and see, maybe do a bit of a half and half situation. No point in wasting the...the _opportunity_ for some extra fun, am I right?”

“No,” Loki breathed, still rooted to the spot, the table looming large in his vision. “We would not want that.”

The Grandmaster looked up at Loki, his brow furrowing. “You all right there, Lo? You’re kind of...kind of looks like you’re zoning out a little bit. Don’t tell me you started the fun stuff without me.”

Whatever pain there was would be temporary, and he would survive it intact. That was the whole _point._

He could take pain. It was - the other part, the knowledge that his body would be changed, his ugliness wiped away, that made things difficult. Too familiar. 

_Simply agree,_ he thought. _You will thrive on Sakaar. It will all be worth it._

That managed to bolster his certainty. He twitched, shaking free his misgivings like a dog shaking free water from its fur. 

“No,” he said, his smile back and wider than ever. “I was just momentarily overcome with gratitude.”

The Grandmaster came over to him, his words running together in a series of happy chirps that Loki managed to more or less respond to with adequacy as he was pulled to a stop beside the table.

It would likely be a simple endeavor. All he apparently needed to do was just lie there. If the procedure performed as the Grandmaster promised, he would come out of it that much closer to flawless. He wouldn’t have to waste effort on erasing his scars through magic any longer.

He carefully disrobed as he layered himself with confidence. He took the numbing agent. The Grandmaster was offering, after all, and Loki did not want to refuse only to realize halfway through the procedure that he should have spared himself. 

The restraints were put into place, though Loki offered a token suggestion of being able to keep still. The Grandmaster only told him he didn’t want to risk anything, and soon a pleasant enough buzz filled Loki from the drugs that he didn’t bother to argue. 

The sting as it started was still enough to make Loki extremely grateful that he’d taken the numbing agent. A formidable chemical wall was between him and whatever physical pain lay on the other side of it. 

He only wished it did a better job at blocking the quiet wailing he could hear, that felt like it came from somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

\-------------

When it was finished, the Grandmaster gave him some time to recover. He wasn’t sure how long it was that he lay upon the table, drifting in a haze with his limbs still encased in shackles. It was enough time that the effects of whatever drug he’d been given began to fade, and a stir of impatient unease filled him at his continued bondage.

But before he could think to call out, the Grandmaster came back to him, a half empty drink in hand. Loki breathed out, glad that he had not simply been forgotten. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” the Grandmaster said, setting his drink aside. He stared down at Loki in fondness. “Look at this, _look at this._ ” 

His fingertips brushed over Loki’s chest, and the tingle through newly-made nerves made Loki jerk with a weak yelp, his confused body only able to distinguish the intensity of the sensation and not whether or not the touch had been pleasurable. 

The Grandmaster seemed to only take his reaction as encouragement. His smile wide, he pressed his warm palm to Loki’s chest, pushing with a gentle pressure.

Loki let out a strained breath, squirming, unable to move himself far with the clamps still over his wrists and ankles. The chemical wall had come down completely, and he was all the more sensitive in its destruction. “Ah, Grandmaster, that is-”

“Good, right?” He scraped his nails across Loki’s flesh.

The higher functions of Loki’s brain sputtered, his voice descending into a squeaking croak. He couldn’t - it was too much, it was-

The hand pulled off of him, and he panted in relief, his skin still tingling in the aftermath. “I think,” he managed. “I think something might have...gone wrong.” 

The Grandmaster’s grin momentarily stretched before he pasted on an entirely unconvincing look of concern. He hovered his hand over Loki’s chest, so close that he could feel the heat wafting from it like a furnace. “What uh, what seems to be the problem?”

Loki swallowed, eyes warily on the encroaching fingers as he tested the restraints in growing concern. “I can’t, I feel - oh, _Grandmaster!_ ”

The pads of the Grandmaster’s fingers had given a glancing brush against Loki’s skin before pulling away. The glint to his eyes was far too jovial when he met Loki’s gaze.

Loki swallowed roughly, his nervousness growing. “You expected this.”

A flash of white teeth answered him. “Smart cookie.” The Grandmaster lowered his hand again, staring in fondness at the way Loki’s skin twitched in readiness for more contact, his forearms tensing sharply against their bonds. “Your biology is in peak physical condition. All those nerve endings...regenerated. Right now you’re feeling it even in spots outside of the targeted treatment area.” He made careful eye contact with Loki as he moved his hands over his body, before deliberately dragging his fingers down his sides. 

Loki threw his head back, pleas nearly bursting from behind his clamped teeth. He arched, unable to pull to either side without increasing the strength of the contact of his body with the Grandmaster’s hands.

The Grandmaster was laughing, and he reached for his drink while Loki struggled to recover. “Beautiful. Perfect, if I do say so myself. A stunning, blank canvas.” He took a large gulp before setting his drink aside and bringing his hands back up, rubbing circles around Loki’s abdomen that seemed to fizz and spark beneath his skin and shoot directly to his cock.

 _Please - just slow down,_ Loki wanted to say, but he was a leaf lost in a river’s current. The restraints allowed him to respond in the ways he could not help while keeping him in place so the Grandmaster could continue to have his fun.

The intensity of the sensations eventually changed. It was like his nerves figured out how to right themselves, their signals falling more and more onto the distinct side of pleasurable. He still writhed against the table, but more and more it was in effort to seek the contact rather than escape it.

All the while, the Grandmaster was still speaking his approval. “Fantastic. Are you, are you finally stabilizing?”

“Yes,” Loki said. His cock stood forlornly untouched, though he thrust up meaningfully. “How long are you planning to tease me?”

“Loki, Loki - if I told you that, it would hardly be teasing, would it?”

The words, absurdly, made Loki feel relieved. The Grandmaster was pleased. Loki had made the right choice, and in doing so appeased his own vanity and ingratiated himself to the man he planned to one day overthrow. Another rung of the ladder had been scaled without much effort. And what was more, the scar of his near-death at Kurse’s blade would never bother him ever again. 

He felt another brush of fingers over his chest and he moaned, a slate wiped clean. Ready to feel again.

“Someone’s eager,” the Grandmaster said in clear delight, his pristine teeth on full display. “How’s about we give things a test drive? You just lay back and - be my instrument. I have to say I'm an amazing DJ.”

It _did_ sound good, and Loki very much wanted to be distracted to prevent the return of the dread that had once coiled in his guts. 

He hadn’t even finished a single nod before the Grandmaster dove in, fingers pinching and rubbing, pinning Loki’s hip with a hand when he tried to thrust up.

He gasped at the casual force, his cock jumping eagerly at the proximity of that touch. It was dizzying, the fact that he was so hard without having received any meaningful stimulation.

Just one of Sakaar’s many positives. It was proving to be quite the stupendous place to settle after losing your entire family and ending up entirely alone for what felt like the thousandth time. 

“I’d love to show you my favorite ship,” the Grandmaster said, like he wasn’t in the process of driving Loki mad by dragging his nails down his pelvic bone. “Maybe tonight? It’s great for the quieter festivities. Well, some days they’re quieter. No guarantees on that.”

Loki’s response was a whimper as the Grandmaster came so close that he nearly caressed his balls. 

“What do you say?”

“Yes,” Loki breathed, throat working. “I - yes. Anything.”

“Oh, so we’re getting to the needy stage, now. One of my favorites. And it’s always great when I get what I want.” The heel of his hand pressed down against Loki’s skin, his fingers gesturing demonstratively over Loki’s cock. “Think I can guess what _you_ want about now, Lokester.”

Loki tried to respond, but his voice failed him. His newly created nerves were sending their signals nonstop and with such vigor that it felt like he would burst. He was no longer a creature of working mind and emotions and voice but just flesh, just flesh that hungered for its next touch.

In the half-moments when he _could_ think over the next hour, he almost wished he could stay that way.

\-------------

The aftermath was...heady. 

Loki was strong, but whether from the procedure or the Grandmaster’s affections, he found himself battling a not insignificant amount of exhaustion.

The Grandmaster released him when he was done, sent him back to his room to rest while the man left to pursue other delights. Loki was still feeling the effects of the procedure and his arousal was a consistent simmer despite his being absolutely rung out not thirty minutes prior. He still managed to clean himself up - carefully, as even the fall of water on the treated patch of skin threatened to make him react. Then he’d fallen into bed and slept until evening.

He was not awake for long before receiving the Grandmaster’s summons. It was not the man himself this time that came to escort him, but a contingent of the palace guards. They kept a respectful distance as they led him towards the palace hangar.

Loki surreptitiously memorized as many of the codes between doorways as he could manage, surrounded by that many eyes. Each room they ventured through was filled with dozens more of the guards stationed at solemn posts at the walls. The rooms were all filled with multiple artworks of varying media hailing the Grandmaster’s triumphs - as a competitor, as a lover, and as a ruler.

After what he’d seen thus far on Sakaar, Loki was willing to admit that the gratuitous grandstanding was at least somewhat warranted. It did not help that in addition to all of that, he was constantly being reminded of the man’s power with every press of his own armor against the skin of his chest.

It would only make things that much more satisfying when he eventually gained the upper hand. Alone, this would likely be a long game, but it was one he was determined to eventually win.

Once they arrived at the hangar, he found that the Grandmaster was in possession of dozens of aircraft. All appeared functional, with more than a few of them of note in their possible usefulness. The guards fell behind as Loki moved towards where the Grandmaster was standing near a vessel of mid-range size. 

He held his arms out in indication when Loki approached. “You’re gonna love this one,” he said, with his usual level of self-satisfaction.

“It’s quite an impressive ship,” Loki said, and again, though he was intentionally wording his phrases, there remained a kernel of truth to them.

“Isn’t it? I have a few in this particular fleet, all aimed at sky high arts and leisure. This one’s my favorite. Years of fine tuning...the modifications, the storage compartments...can’t be beat. Everything a party could need. Well, almost, but that’s where you come in!”

Loki found he had not completely lost the instinctive disconcert that came with such open and unadulterated praise stemming from such a powerful figure. “And is there to be a party tonight?”

The Grandmaster slung his arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Oh, my friend, is there ever!”

Loki was drawn on board, to be greeted with the same chaotic lavishment that seemed to fill all of the spaces the Grandmaster put to personal use. At least it was all fairly clean. Like the rest of the palace, guards were stationed along the walls. The only other visible occupants were workers tending to bars or odd machines that were likely for music.

Many of the aforementioned modifications on the vessel were yet more decorative celebrations of the Grandmaster’s glory, as if Loki had not seen enough of those already. He kept up an expression of keen interest as the Grandmaster explained the technology for the projections he favored, filing away any possible uses as they came.

“I love it,” the Grandmaster said. “State of the art, though - you strike me as a bit more old fashioned. Statue guy, am I right?”

Loki remembered the golden vision of himself he'd ordered erected on Asgard. His expression of easy friendship did not falter. “You’re quite insightful.”

“I knew you had fantastic taste,” the Grandmaster said, elbowing Loki in the side. “I’ve got some of those too, but not on this ship, sadly - sometimes I like to be a little more practical, leave the space open for more energizing activities. Come on, let’s have a seat, have a drink, whatever, knock yourself out. Our other friends should show up soon.”

There were a number of beverages already laid out in crisp neatness on a shelf by the bar. A masked server of unknown species had already placed two of the glasses on a tray without prompting, and brought them within reach.

Loki took his, wondering if all of the Grandmaster’s servants had learned to respond so quickly and efficiently without even direct orders. Adaptability seemed the best course for rising in station on this planet.

And there was no one more schooled in its uses than Loki. Or the consequences that came with failure.

The drink was good. The Grandmaster may have lived on a planet with long stretches unavoidably covered with massive heaps of space debris, but everything Loki had experienced while associated with him was well made, if different from the fare he’d experienced on Asgard. It was a conglomeration of different cultures in lost relics that had been thrown down from all corners of the universe over thousands of years. And the very best among them were in a constant state of being cherry-picked, then altered and fixed for the Grandmaster’s personal use.

 _That now includes you,_ Loki thought, taking a greater gulp from his glass. It burned through his chest on the way down.

He breathed out after he swallowed, telling himself he would pace himself better from then on. 

The concerns bubbling within him were unwarranted. His plans of solidifying his friendship with the Grandmaster were progressing ever steadily. The circumstances could not be more fortuitous. 

Even simply allowing himself to relax and enjoy a party would only bring him closer to his goal. The coup he would eventually engage in would likely be all the more easily done if he made sure to use his charms to sow seeds of connection with those numbered among the other high-standing inhabitants of the planet.

The Grandmaster leaned back against the couch, making a waving gesture over his own chest. “How’s the, uh…”

Loki felt his gaze drift downwards. He pasted his smile in place, and when he smoothed his hand over his armor the jolt through his skin nearly made him lose his grip on his drink. He covered the reaction with what he hoped was a bashful smile. “Much better. I’ve been meaning to thank you for your generosity.”

The Grandmaster beamed. “Oh, I like that. I’m all about the gratitude.” His expression went serious, his hand reaching out to briefly pat Loki’s leg. “But it’d be thoughtless of me if I didn’t mention what a peach you were about the process. Some people, eh, they get a little - worried. But not you, you really went for it. Handled it with just the right amount of stoicism. Very, _very_ hot.”

It felt as if the words had rushed themselves down to settle in Loki’s core like glowing coals. “My friend,” he said. “Nothing delights me more than your approval.” He resisted the urge to shift his legs, absurdly glad that the Grandmaster’s other guests had not arrived just yet. 

Loki decided he’d already drank far too much. If he was going to remain this sensitive around a group of unknown people then it would be prudent to prevent any further dismantling of his faculties. But when he made the motion to set aside his drink, he caught the very visible frown that started on the Grandmaster’s face. 

_Mistake,_ he thought, with a lurch. _He’s taking offense._ He quickly checked his movement, rolling his shoulder as if the motion had been only to stretch it out. 

“That’s good to hear,” the Grandmaster said, with a pointed look at Loki’s drink. “In fact it’s kind of the motto, here on Sakaar.”

Loki took the hint. He raised the glass for a moderately sized swallow. “I’d love to learn more about how you came to be here,” Loki said, and the Grandmaster laughed, all traces of sternness gone from his expression.

It really was the simplest of efforts to keep him in good spirits. 

They settled into an easy conversation for the next hour. Loki tested the waters, drinking obligingly after the Grandmaster’s reminders, and then maintaining enough of a rhythm to head off such suggestions without seeming like he was intentionally refraining from getting drunk.

The other guests did eventually arrive, of a dozen or so different species. Loki kept a casual eye on their behaviors as they engaged with him, but as the ship took off and panels on the walls fell to reveal Sakaar’s night sky, he found himself relaxing enough to shoulder his schemes. He was dimly aware that such a fact probably meant he’d already drank far too much, but was at the point where the concern for that was thoroughly dampened.

It was freeing. He hadn’t expected to feel this way again so soon, certainly not as himself. Wearing Odin’s mask had afforded him peace and luxury - and while amusing, it had always been theft. Stealing what he’d been denied after a life of false promises.

He even found it easy to openly recount such events. Like the plays he’d organized on Asgard, he told his story as an undercover king, taking what was rightfully his. He left out names and places, but the added mystery only enchanted his audience further. More and more guests gathered around him as the night stretched on, partaking in delicacies offered by faceless servants, bellies filling and minds loosening. The majority of them took in Loki’s words almost as keenly as they did the Grandmaster’s, laughing and responding with eagerness at all the right points.

Loki had just gotten to the part of his tale where he had wisely called forth a beam of light to help him and his companion escape a powerful force when the shift in the air began. One of the guests en route for another drink passed behind him, then paused to stroke a hand intimately over his shoulder, letting it rest briefly against the side of his neck before pulling away. 

Loki lost track of his words, turning his head in confusion and finding that the guest had already moved on to the bar.

Another guest prodded him. “And what happened next?”

“Next?” Loki blinked, laughing to discard some of his tension. “Why, I found my way to the most glorious planet in the universe.”

The heartfelt agreement that followed lasted several seconds, as the guests raised toasts to Sakaar and the Grandmaster clapped in delight. 

Loki found his own smile slipping free as the hand from before returned to his shoulder, and this time it not only remained, but was followed by a pair of cool lips. 

Loki swallowed. “Ah,” he said, gently shrugging the touch away and looking carefully at the Grandmaster for reaction. 

“It’s definitely that time,” the Grandmaster said, the pleased look steady on his face.

Loki frowned, and with a start realized that the few pairs that had been dancing were beginning to take part in more vigorous interactions. The burning coals within him, that had seemed to go dormant as he’d told his tale, flared back to life. 

He swallowed roughly, trying to get a hold of himself. “I...I’m not, entirely sure-”

“Come on, Lo,” the Grandmaster said, and though Loki checked he found the man’s glee had only seemed to increase at his uncertain response. “It’s just a test run. No biggie. Better to make sure that there’s no side effects to the procedure you had this morning. Besides, Sava here’s been enjoying listening to you share all your little stories...she’s really starting to feel a connection to you, don’t you, Sava?”

“Do I,” Sava said, her hand drifting against Loki’s neck.

Loki pasted on a smile, raising his hand to gently deflect her touch. “That’s very kind.”

“I can be kinder,” Sava said, not put off in the least by his removal.

“I think I can be kindest,” a second voice said, and Loki fought not to have his face fall as a hand draped down on him from behind.

The Grandmaster’s gaze was starting to appear a bit dreamy, and his grin was blindingly white. “See? All friends here.”

Loki was becoming _very_ distracted by the warmth of the palm over his chest. He struggled to come up with a coherent excuse to slow this down. “I’m afraid I’m...still a bit tired, from the procedure - if I could offer to attend a full party at a later date, Grandmaster-”

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, Lo. I clued everyone in. In fact,” And at this the Grandmaster whipped out a piece of thick cloth. “Let’s have you wear this for a bit. Help you relax those wandering eyes.”

Fabric was pressed over Loki’s face and knotted firmly behind his head. His lungs seized, his heart instantly moving at a ready gallop. He could hear the people around him, could feel the heat of their closeness, but he could no longer see so much as a sliver of light. When he twisted his head, the cool rim of a glass was there to meet his lips.

“Here,” the Grandmaster said. He was so close that Loki could feel the warmth of his breath on his face. “Take some of this. Then we’ll just...take a load off. There’s plenty of people here to get you going.”

 _Remember the plan,_ Loki thought, feeling unmoored from how fast this spiral was progressing. _He’s not asking anything of difficulty. Just allow yourself to enjoy it._

The drink went down smoother than the last, but the Grandmaster did not let up until Loki had consumed it all.

Hands returned to his chest, and he gripped into the couch with a gasp, protests forgotten as he found himself no less sensitive than he had been that morning. With the blindfold in place he could not keep track of who touched him, could not adequately reciprocate. He was given another drink, and another, as if the Grandmaster was trying to make up for Loki’s moderation of intake earlier in the night.

The night passed in flashes. His clothes came off at some point. Someone drew their tongue - at least he thought it was their tongue - up his chest, and others followed suit. Beneath their touches, his lungs heaved and his heart raced. 

_What you want,_ said his increasingly scattered thoughts. _This is precisely what you want._

He felt hands at his jaw, and heard the Grandmaster laughing above him. “You, Loki,” he said. “You’re a treasure. Couldn’t...couldn’t have asked for a better fit.”

Lips descended, firm and demanding. Loki opened himself.

He continued to fit.

\-------------

He woke in his own quarters in the late morning with a pulse like a boulder being slammed against his skull. His heartbeat felt thready, struggling to move blood through his veins and recover from the process of filtering the hefty doses of whatever toxins he’d partaken in the night before. He remembered the steady supply of drinks, followed by pills on his tongue.

He remembered several other details, too. The terrible and constant arousal. The numerous touches to his body from people he could not see. The way his panic had crested and plunged in turns as he’d struggled to process the sensations on his overstimulated skin.

Water, he thought. He should drink water, and assist his body back to rights. 

He began to rise with a groan, and raised a hand to his aching forehead.

He froze.

Over his palm was a mottling of skin, a deep red tint that spanned from wrist to just beneath his fingers. Not fresh, but so extensive that the wound that had caused it had to have been of a certain intensity. One that he doubted would have simply healed so quickly if it had been caused the night before. 

He blinked rapidly, scowling as he stared down at it through the fall of his own hair. When he went to prod at it, he again went still as he saw his other hand presented with a second scar. But for a few wavering edges, it was identical to the first: not painful, but the skin thickened enough to feel like it was pulled too tightly over his bones.

He stared, flabbergasted. Had he had some sort of reaction during his...activities? It was like his hands had been badly burned, like when he’d been very young and had over-enthusiastically tried his hand at increasingly dangerous spells.

With a frown, he peered at them even more closely. That was _exactly_ what it looked like, he realized. Abruptly, he wondered if he’d attempted to _attack_ anyone the night before. Perhaps in the midst of his excessive inebriation he’d been particularly sloppy with the collateral damage to his own body in the use of such a spell. 

He searched his memory, heart pounding with increasing vigor. If he’d seriously harmed any of the Grandmaster’s guests without permission, he would have to make his escape as soon as possible. He didn’t know how he’d even managed to make it back to his quarters without instantaneous punishment. 

That didn’t matter - he was stalling in his confusion, when the guards could already be on their way. He had to leave immediately. 

He shot to his feet, his breaths coming hard and fast enough to echo the pounding in his head. He quickly dressed, pulling his new armor tight over himself with his magic, made his way to the door and swung it open.

The Grandmaster was standing on the other side.

Loki jerked back as his stomach gave a sharp drop, hastily curling his fingers inward.

The Grandmaster looked pleasantly surprised. “Hey, you’re up - I wasn’t sure if you’d still be sleeping after, all the, y’know…” He waggled his eyebrows, looking as content as a cat standing over a dead bird. 

He didn’t appear to be furious. His bodyguard was not with him. Nor the melt stick.

Loki swallowed and cautiously allowed a sense of calm to begin to push aside his flight response. “I woke not too long ago,” he said, pretending nonchalance. “Though I do admit to some lingering fatigue, I might need a few more hours to-”

“Something, something’s wrong,” the Grandmaster interrupted with a frown. “What happened to your hands?” He gestured towards Loki’s clamped fists.

Loki swallowed, like a guilty child caught out for its crime. He still wasn’t entirely sure what happened, but if he _hadn’t_ lashed out and tried to murder anyone, perhaps the Grandmaster could shed some light on the issue. Hesitantly, he unfurled his fists.

The Grandmaster instantly reached forward, his frown deepening as he checked over Loki’s hands with all the care of a doting parent. All the while, he spoke, “Oh, that’s, _that’s_ rather - disconcerting - hmmm, these were buried deep, weren’t they?”

Loki furrowed his brow, his own gaze going back down to his hands. “I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Just what R&D warned us about,” the Grandmaster said, “the possibility of one or two side effects. Looks like these are a couple of, uh, old injuries? It’s fascinating. Like pulling down the wallpaper and seeing the cracks underneath. You really did a number on yourself here - whenever you did do it, that is.”

Old injuries. Loki gazed at his hands again. He looked at the particular indentation at the top of his left hand, that made the image of a pointed star. 

He remembered Odin scolding him for recklessness, telling him that if he was not going to respect the power his mother was attempting to train him in then there would be no point to his learning it at all. Recalled being firmly steered towards Eir so that his blistered palms could be set to rights.

And he remembered, after his father’s temper had eased, being given a few sessions of magic training, directly under the Allfather. The thrill of them had itched under his skin, even if his father hadn’t been precisely the happiest with him during their sessions. He’d worked so very hard to be a good student, to be deserving of such focus. 

He’d only received a few more sessions before Odin’s attentions, inevitably, were directed elsewhere.

“Don’t worry,” the Grandmaster said, rubbing Loki’s hands between his own. “I know just what to do about these.”

\-------------

The machine was implemented once more. The Grandmaster adjusted the settings, changing the attachments of the devices that had previously been connected to it. Loki determinedly set himself upon the table, and his hands were clamped open with palms facing upwards. 

The anxiety regarding the machine’s first use had almost entirely faded. There was a shifting of something unpleasant in his belly, but it did not have to do with worry for his current safety. Soon the numbing agent took away even that, and Loki stared up at the silver etchings on the glass case as the scars on his hands were scraped away.

When he was done, the Grandmaster raised Loki’s palm to his lips and kissed down to the inside of his wrist.

\-------------

Sava and the others weren’t on the ship that night. Instead, it was a new group. 

“Not many people can take two nights in a row,” the Grandmaster said with a wink, and Loki felt himself flush in pride at the same time he wondered if _he_ could take two nights in a row.

It began the same way. A gathering with drinks and easy conversation. Loki let others lead the way, admittedly curious about what other creatures would be able to place themselves in their own positions of comfort on a planet rife with slaves. Many of them, he assumed, had just been lucky. 

The glass in his hand sent tingles through his palm in a steady course of sensation. It was easy enough to follow suit in response with the crowd even when he was distracted. 

He saw it happen, this time - the progressive change in the air. The tip from indulgence and camaraderie into something more...base. And when he saw it he could not help but react to it, his body remembering fully what his mind did not. 

“I’m glad we got those hands fixed up,” the Grandmaster said.

The story from the latest guest had been completed. Loki, who felt as if he had been drifting in a haze without words to focus on, turned eagerly at the Grandmaster’s acknowledgement. 

“You’re a fighter,” the Grandmaster said. “The good kind. The kind that…” He grinned. “The kind that I like to keep around. Smart enough to turn up in just the right place.”

There was an off-putting undertone to the words, but Loki latched onto them nonetheless. “How could I wish for anything else?”

“See, that’s why I was so giving. Sure, you had a few ugly marks, but everything outside of them...really worth the work, so far.” 

Loki was overtaken by the abrupt urge to clamp his hands together, palm to palm. With effort, he managed to keep them on display.

“Now, I know you’re a spell user,” the Grandmaster said. “I’m sure you have a nice arsenal besides that little glamor from earlier. Let’s hear a story about those beautiful magic hands.”

“Please do,” someone said. “I heard from Sava you’ve got a lovely speaking voice.”

The rest of the guests responded eagerly, as the others had the night before.

Loki was still staring at the Grandmaster, a bit too muddled from the drink and the feel of the glass against his palm for immediate action. 

In the back of his mind, he heard a voice saying, _Took me quite a while to break free from your spell._

They were still watching him. He cleared his throat, pretending it was in preparation instead of him giving himself a moment to try to clear his head.

He managed. He chose a tale of adventure and triumph, where he had managed to save his companions through illusions and a few well placed knives. He left out the part afterwards, where instead of lauded, he’d been excessively teased for having sunk so low in character as to rely purely on tricks.

And the entire time he spoke, he was thinking of himself as a child, struggling to power his magic well enough to impress Odin without harming himself.

The Grandmaster laughed in delight as Loki ended his tale. The rest of his audience reacted with similar positivity. Positivity and...other things.

This time it was the Grandmaster that officially began the proceedings. He gently took Loki’s wrist, raising his hand palm up towards his grinning mouth. Loki shakily thought of an alpha wolf taking its first turn at a downed kill while the rest of the pack watched.

 _That is...not what this is,_ he tried to tell himself, even as every muscle in his body seized when the Grandmaster kissed his palm, again intentionally targeting the recently rebuilt nerves. Loki was only vaguely aware as someone took his empty glass, enabling the Grandmaster to bring his other hand forward so he could softly scrape his teeth along his flesh.

Loki cried out, wondering rather dizzily if he should be worried about being consumed after all. He’d heard tales of what happened to some of the lesser species that dropped to the outskirts, where only the desperately starving and vicious roamed.

And the fact that the inherent danger in such a thought didn’t lessen Loki’s arousal should have shamed him. It should have encouraged him to give a more blatant demonstration of his magical talents, to fight and escape. 

But the Grandmaster was already drawing Loki’s hands over his head with a firm grip. Shackles locked over his wrists, seemingly from nowhere. Loki gasped at the sharp pressure of the metal. He gave a testing tug at the bonds and it only made the sensation worse. Or better.

The other party guests had already begun to enjoy each other in earnest. The Grandmaster was quick to follow suit, peeling Loki’s pants free and clamping his ankles in place with yet more chains. Then he leaned over Loki and without further ceremony began to work his cock with a steady hand. Loki swallowed and tensed, far less shocked by the proceedings than he had been the first time. He kept his limbs carefully still to prevent the exacerbation of his need. 

The Grandmaster was quick to note the behavior. “Lo, you’re looking a little...wound _tight_ tonight.” 

The Grandmaster twisted his hand roughly against Loki’s cock. Loki gave a strained grunt, chains clinking as he came up sharply against them, sending sparks like shooting stars down his nerves. He quickly raised his hands again, lessening the pressure as he panted. “Ah - am - am I?”

“Thought maybe you’d’ve settled in a bit more after yesterday,” the Grandmaster said. 

“I am,” Loki insisted. His pulse was like a drumbeat in his imprisoned wrists. He realized in growing alarm that even _that_ was now enough to stir his lust. “I - it’s just - your expertise overwhelms me.”

“Practice, practice, practice,” the Grandmaster said. “Well, Lo, get yourself settled in for a night of...overwhelming. I’m, I’m definitely in the mood to hear someone beg. Not just one little slip-up, either - no, no.” He deliberately raised one hand and hovered it over Loki's wrist, just beneath the shackle. “I’m talking full, unbridled pleading. The kind that's like the best music. The kind that...well, we'll just have to get you to experience it for yourself.”

While Loki was distracted by the Grandmaster's closeness, someone behind the couch wrapped small tendrils about his palms. The world whited and there was an odd aching pulse in his genitals, his release stoppered. He gasped and pulled harshly away from the touch, but only brought himself up sharply by the chains and simultaneously placed himself within the grip of the Grandmaster's waiting hand. And then the tendrils easily followed him, stroking thoroughly across his oversensitive hands. He couldn’t pull away far enough to avoid them. He whimpered, his cock aching within the Grandmaster’s grasp.

He wondered if Odin knew, when he’d bandaged Loki all those years ago, what fate such care of those hands would lead to.

The Grandmaster stared intently as Loki moaned and twisted futilely beneath the combined attentions. “This is a good start,” he said with a decisive nod. “It's a good start indeed.”

Loki felt scraped raw as the night progressed. His hands were never given a moment’s rest, receiving intimate touches from all manner of appendages and mouths while the Grandmaster watched him with a careful eye. Each time he nearly reached orgasm the Grandmaster thwarted it with a severe tightening of his hand and a subtle jolt of magical energy from his palm. Loki could not even note it as his need went from white to red. The first of the pleas were soon spilling out of him, gasping and hesitant. He was given no immediate mercy for them, only offered more contact as the guests swarmed around him like bees to honey, wanton and wild from their own desires.

He was only vaguely aware as their numbers began to lessen. By the time the Grandmaster was sated enough to bestow pity upon Loki, he was begging unreservedly.

He lost sense as his orgasm ripped through him. When he became aware again, he’d been unchained, and his head was resting in the Grandmaster’s lap.

The Grandmaster hummed, his hand lazily stroking along Loki’s chest. “ _Now_ you’re loosened up,” he proclaimed.

\-------------

He woke the following afternoon to a now familiar headache and the soreness of a body well-used. His hands, which had been the most active part of him, felt perfectly normal in contrast. They were even clean. The rest of him...he did not want to think too much about.

He sat up, his muscles protesting movement, and hunched himself carefully over the side of the bed. It would likely take at least another several hours for him to heal enough to walk without pain. 

He took advantage of his repaired hands and pressed his face into his palms, shoulders shaking with a bit of hysterical laughter. 

What a turn his climb to the top had taken. As far as experiences, he could not decide if it was the most wonderful or the most horrible. Or if the fact that he could not decide made it all the better.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he had engaged sexually and enthusiastically with a great many people the previous night. And he had outlasted many of them, despite that he had attended a second party so soon after the first. He’d been stretched to his limits, and had endured, and the Grandmaster had been pleased. 

He eventually made his way stiffly to the shower, rubbing at the pulsing that seemed to be coming from right behind his eye sockets. He was grateful that he was already disrobed, so he would not have to expend any magical or physical energy in undressing.

As he passed the mirror in the bathroom, he saw a splash of vivid red color in his periphery.

He stopped walking, shutting his eyes with a sigh. Perhaps what he had seen had simply been a figment from his wavering vision. Or maybe the Grandmaster had attempted his hand at getting Loki to engage in the stylistic paints favored by the majority of Sakaar’s residents.

_And when, precisely, did you gain a penchant for such idiotic optimism?_

He forced himself to take a step back and face the mirror. The signs of sex on his body were clear to see - the superficial marks that were already mostly healed, and the deeper ones that were well on their way to doing the same. No cause for alarm there.

But venture higher, to the skin of his neck and face...

It was _covered_ in mottled scarring, every inch of it completely discolored with a patchwork of redness. He stared in shock, open-mouthed, then with a faint noise attempted to cover it with a spell.

The usage of his magic felt like a nail driving its way through his skull. The marks did not disappear. 

His panic rising, he tried again. He strained, calling forth his power, willing it to answer through the migraine that was filling his vision with spots. He pulled so deeply at his reserves that he cast green over his entire body, struggling, his breaths coming in harsh gasps through bared teeth.

His cry of rage was followed by the lash of breaking objects against the walls and floor as he released his useless magic outwards. He nearly lost his balance and caught himself against the sink, his magic sputtering to nothing. He stared in growing horror at his reflection in the now splintered glass. 

_Ugly marks,_ the Grandmaster had said, but these were the ugliest yet. And they would not so easily be covered.

His gorge rose. He managed to make it to the toilet in time to expel the contents of his stomach, moaning as the ache in his head grew ever more vicious with the strain.

When he was done, he flopped onto the cool metal floor, keeping his eyes shut against the lights.

Perhaps...perhaps it was just a reaction. Some allergy to a substance at the party, from intake or application against his skin, or-

He could not be seen like this. 

He weighed his choices, and thought disappointing the Grandmaster for missing a single night of companionship would be less of an insult than offending his gaze with… _this._

Loki looked towards the tub at the end of the room, his throat tight. If it was a reaction, he would need to ensure his body was well cleansed of whatever had caused it. He laboriously climbed to his feet, sending off another round of spears into his brain.

He climbed into the shower and began a very thorough process of scrubbing himself clean. He roughly scraped his skin over and over, until no speck of external toxic material could possibly remain.

He dressed with effort, and this time managed to keep the resulting nausea from overtaking him. Then, cautiously, he moved to examine himself again in the mirror.

He nearly flinched. The shower had not done his flesh any favors. The reds appeared darker, edged with a grey cast where his flesh went pale. And he could see marks within the patches - ghosts of lines over his forehead and cheeks.

It had to have been a coincidence. 

_Like pulling down the wallpaper and seeing the cracks underneath._

One day, when he had been very young, Loki had gone to play with Thor outside. Frigga had overseen their frolicking with a loving eye. The sun had climbed as the day had gone on. It had turned out to be the hottest day of Asgard’s summer.

By the time his mother had called a stop to their excursion, it had been too late. Loki, feeling vaguely ill but not quite realizing the danger, found himself waking in a bed in the healing chambers. He had sustained enough damage that he spent weeks residing there.

He remembered the day he had finally gained enough strength to climb from his bed, eager to tell his parents and Thor of his recovery. He had passed a mirror before he could make his way out, and found a similar ugly vision to what he was viewing now.

He had been horrified. He had hidden in shame, and wept, and spent days railing against visitors. He’d viciously hidden his face each time his mother or Thor came to visit. 

Even after the marks had faded, he’d stayed carefully in the palace until the following winter. He’d even avoided the wide, open windows that made up much of the exterior walls. And for every summer after that - until he’d gained enough experience to learn spells to protect against such damage - he had used care and limited his exposure. He’d learned that the sun in all its glory could harm him just as cruelly as any storm.

Loki cast his gaze away from the blatant imperfections. His thoughts were growing desperate. 

He knew this could be fixed. _Wiped away._

He only had to request it.

_It will happen whether you request it or not._

He should rejoice in that. The surety of the fact that this would pass soon enough. That the Grandmaster could manage in a day what Asgard’s best healers, what _Frigga_ , fell short of achieving.

Mechanically, he moved back to his room to wait. When the Grandmaster arrived, Loki was sitting on his bed, face carefully wiped of all emotion.

As before, the joviality in the man’s expression fell when he saw the evidence of Loki’s disfigurement. The grimace was next, followed by a tone of aghast concern. “ _Yikes_ , that’s...that’s a bad one. Geez, you’re redder than a Krylorian. And what are those lines on your face?”

Loki kept his expression tight, his shame clawing in deep. He rose to his feet, keeping his back straight, even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet the Grandmaster’s eyes.

“Grandmaster,” he said, and felt distant pride at how even he managed to keep his voice. “It would seem I would benefit from an additional procedure.”

The Grandmaster was uncharacteristically quiet. Loki could feel his gaze taking in his ruined appearance.

He saw the Grandmaster move, and kept himself carefully still as he was approached. He could not help the flinch as the Grandmaster raised a hand towards his face.

“Honey,” the Grandmaster said, stern but gentle. “Don’t be like that. I just want to take a look.”

Loki forced himself to be stone. “Of course.”

“You’re so jumpy sometimes,” the Grandmaster admonished. “Come here, ooohhh, this - yeah - this is just not going to do!” 

Loki glared at the wall. His headache had improved, but it was still encouraging him to be sharp. “May we please get it over with?”

The Grandmaster took a step back, intentionally moving himself into Loki’s line of sight. He widened his eyes meaningfully. “Hey, look at me.”

Loki did not want to. He wanted to hide, like he had as a child. He wanted the hand that would come and stroke into his hair as he wept into his pillow. The voice that would read him stories until he fell asleep.

The Grandmaster’s hand was stroking his hair now. Loki met his eyes, feeling the pulse of despair fighting against the firm walls he'd erected around it.

“Got some real history here,” the Grandmaster said. He gently patted the crown of Loki's head. “Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of every pesky piece that still bothers you.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, just wanting it to be done.

\-------------

“R&D’s done some updates,” the Grandmaster said as Loki took quick steps towards the procedure table. “And not a moment too soon, apparently. That one _really_ backfired. I have to say, didn’t go into this thinking you’d be quite this much work!”

 _I could say the same when it comes to you,_ Loki thought, all but throwing himself into place. He quickly regretted it as the sore parts of his body chimed in with vigor.

“Uh, you’re still wearing your clothes,” the Grandmaster noted with some confusion.

Loki worked his jaw. His patience was a thin thing, stretched to its limits at the stresses that crushed it down. He wanted to protest that the marks were only on the portions of his body already exposed.

But arguing would only delay things further. He clenched his hand, and his clothes dissipated. As the air rushed in over his bared flesh, his face felt all the warmer in contrast.

“This one’s got you down, I can tell,” the Grandmaster said while he activated the restraints. As if that fact made him a pure genius of insight. “Settle in and keep still. We’ll have that beautiful face back in no time.”

The numbing agent was applied. Loki closed his eyes as the procedure began, and kept them shut. He heard the device moving, could feel the shifts in pressure in the table beneath him. Even restrained, he kept himself so rigid that he was sure if he had not been drugged his limbs would be aching.

The Grandmaster had touted improvements, but Loki quickly noticed that the machine was moving slower than it normally did. It was another aggravation, another weight added to the pile. Beneath closed lids, he could feel his eyes burning.

Something else began to burn not long after. As Loki twitched in growing discomfort, he realized that the time needed for the device’s workings had spanned for so long that the numbing agent was beginning to fail. 

He ground his jaw, not wanting any delays to the process, but the dullness was quickly changing into something sharper. That feeling quickly swelled, until with a pierce of pain along recently revived nerves, he jerked with a cry.

The machine stopped. Hurried footsteps approached.

Loki was gasping, his eyes still closed. “No,” he said, voice a croak. The machine had stopped, but the burning in his eyes was only growing worse. “Finish it. Finish it, _please_ -”

“Hang on, just, just hang on,” the Grandmaster said. “You can’t rush something like this. We gotta take it slow with all these improvements. There’s a - woo - there’s a lot of...well, let’s just say, it’s no wonder you’re so open to letting loose.”

Loki did not know what that meant. He had lost much of his faith in the machine’s abilities. But to exist for even a handful of days with such an expanse of scars spread over his face and neck - and the ghost of his true heritage visible in the particular lines that filled them - would be a far worse torment. 

“Just sit tight. I’m gonna grab some more special goo to make sure you’re good and prepped for the long haul.”

The Grandmaster was generous with the numbing agent, cooing over Loki with soft words and a gentle touch. “See? All good here,” he said. “Well, maybe not all good, with so much of your face still...did you get treated for this? At _all_?”

Loki twisted his wrists against their bonds, wishing he could turn away from the scrutiny. “It was never...a problem before.”

“Oh I’m um, I’m going to have to beg to differ. You know, I’ve found that even those non-magic type species...they can all tell, when you cover up something this big.”

“It didn’t _require_ covering up,” Loki said. He knew the Grandmaster disliked obvious disagreements, but he could not stay quiet. “I healed from it.”

The hands on him paused. “Did you, though? Because it seems...seems to me like you wouldn’t be here if that was the case.”

 _She’d known all along. She’d_ known _, and yet…_

“I healed from it,” Loki repeated, voice weak. 

“Mm-hmm,” the Grandmaster said. “You’ll uh, forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. But that stubborn spark of yours, that’s just one of your charms.”

Even if he had inclination to continue the argument more aggressively, he was pinned on his back, with likely all manner of sharp implements ready to flay him. It would be a ridiculous urge. The harder path.

Pleasing the Grandmaster was, after all, quite simple.

Loki exhaled roughly. The weight within him was bowing inwards under the strain. If he was not careful, it would snap it’s bearings. “Apologies,” he said. “Thank you, for your continued aid, Grandmaster.”

“Good,” the Grandmaster said, and Loki suddenly felt like he had passed some sort of test. “I’m...gosh, I’m doing a lot of favors here that I don’t usually hand out. You could stand to simmer down a bit, Lo.”

“I know,” Loki said. He had found his footing enough to speak with more certainty. “You were right. The care I received was...poor.”

“That goes without saying,” the Grandmaster muttered. “Now, hush. We’re going to get this started up again.”

When the procedure was finally complete, the numbing agent was again on the edge of wearing off. He was given permission to open his eyes while the Grandmaster went to find a mirror, and by the time the man returned Loki’s face and neck felt as if they were crawling with hundreds of ants.

But the mirror only displayed pure, unblemished skin. Loki shuddered in relief. “Thank you,” he said.

The Grandmaster smiled widely. “Now, uh, now, I’d say - _I_ deserve a bit of a reward after all that hard work. What do you think?”

“I am at your mercy,” Loki said, with enough of the right intonation to even convince himself the words were mostly joking, instead of the brutal statement of what was.

“That you are,” the Grandmaster said. 

The Grandmaster took his time, kissing Loki slowly, on his lips, down his neck - even taking his earlobe between his teeth. As the numbing agent fully faded, the exhaustion in Loki’s body was no match for his soaring need.

Before he collapsed back into bed in his chambers, Loki wondered if he was ever again in his life to spend more than three hours of consciousness without being fucked by someone.

\-------------

Loki was late to the ship that night. 

After receiving his summons, he had nearly requested an exclusion. Nearly. After everything he had gone through that day he found he was far too numb to put any meaningful thought into it. And he was certain the Grandmaster would be very displeased with putting so much time and effort into helping him to then be spurned for something trivial.

This particular setback was over. It was done with. He only needed to drink, and keep his wits about him, and keep an eye out for anything that the Grandmaster could give him that would be of eventual use when Loki inevitably stabbed him in the back.

Figuratively, and possibly literally. 

The Grandmaster did not seem too disappointed with his tardiness. He just beckoned for Loki to follow him. “Something a little different planned for tonight,” he said conspiratorially.

Loki’s composure, which still felt like a single line of string struggling to hold a boulder’s mass, nearly completely broke when he entered the ship. It was already occupied, and not by the normal esteemed and socially friendly guests. Instead, the species gathered all looked distinctly...angry. Vicious. 

The majority of them were wearing obedience discs.

Loki went deathly still, his hackles raising. These were not the regular esteemed guests. They were fighters from the deepest pits of the Grandmaster’s Contest of Champions. The ones that had thus far managed to survive through sheer savagery and bloodlust. Some of them held drinks but they did not speak to one another. Many of them glared openly at Loki.

He carefully summoned a knife, keeping it hidden against his palm.

The Grandmaster approached him, either ignorant or oblivious to the tension. He clapped joyfully, the sound nearly sending Loki through the roof.

“Wow, you all, I have to say you all cleaned up good!” The Grandmaster pulled at his robes, eyeing one of the larger creatures in fondness. “Loki, say hello. These are some of my best contenders here. Not _the_ best, at least not yet, am I right, Karo?”

Karo, covered in reptilian scaling and whose head nearly brushed the ceiling of the Commodore, gave a slash of a smile. “Only a matter of time.”

“He’s very confident,” the Grandmaster said to Loki. “And he can back it up, so far. Something you two have in common.”

At the words, Karo’s pupils visibly expanded as he turned to take in Loki fully. Like a hunter seeking prey. 

Or a mate.

Loki gripped the knife even more tightly.

“Anyway, sometimes I like to shake things up,” the Grandmaster said. “Give the top participants a little something extra to keep them going, that little added spark. Full bellies, the works. My greatest Champion, though, he doesn’t have much interest. Probably for the best, you know, the unbridled savagery isn't quite as, as suited to parties in small spaces. Not without a lot of heads being crushed. I like a good head crushing as much as the next guy, but sometimes there’s a time and place, you know?”

“Grandmaster,” Loki said. He did not back away, though he very much wished he could. “I…”

“Hmmm?” The Grandmaster was at his side, holding out a drink that Loki had not noticed him gather. “Something on your mind?”

Loki swallowed. If he took the drink, he would have to dissipate the knife he was still clutching. “If you would prefer I wasn’t here-”

“Why would I prefer that? Who said I would prefer that?” The Grandmaster pulled Loki close, delivering a peck on his over-sensitized cheek that radiated down through his neck. 

Loki could not quite hold in his grunt, overcome by the sensation. The Grandmaster had only touched him for a moment but he might as well have latched himself to his neck for all Loki’s hungry skin was responding. 

He tried with effort to control his breathing, vigorously cursing the side effects of the Grandmaster’s device. “I just thought, if you would rather focus on your contenders-”

“Don’t be bashful, now,” the Grandmaster said, shaking him. “You’re the best dang thing that’s happened to these shindigs in a while. Why...why do you think I’m having so many in a row. And I know you’re up for it. Right?”

Loki wished he could say with complete certainty that he wasn’t. Or that he was even certain what he would be holding onto in a refusal.

To engage would be the better choice if he was concerned with self-preservation. As for his pride...Sakaar made its own rules when it came to that, and the only person who had spoken to him with any sort of derision or mockery had been the Grandmaster. Sex and a desire for violence were all things that could be kept openly displayed without a care for judgment.

And if the man really was just being thoughtless of the possible dangers to Loki...it was not as if Loki had any lack of experience in that particular area.

The contenders were watching him like they were ready for battle. Watching for weakness.

Loki knew they were, because he was doing precisely the same thing.

The guards in constant poise at the walls suddenly seemed far more functional in their placement. Loki was under no illusions what it was he risked if he ruined the Grandmaster’s fun.

The knife faded from his hand. He told himself he would at the very least remain poised to recall it.

His words felt like they were being pulled up through his throat. “I would be overjoyed.”

The Grandmaster beamed. “ _There’s_ my guy.”

The Grandmaster did not seem interested in having any tales told at this event. Instead, the food and drinks were passed around in excess while he spent an astonishing amount of time reacquainting himself with Loki’s mouth. He was heedless of their audience, or driven by them, seeking only to take his physical pleasure.

Finally, Karo took a demonstrative seat beside them on the couch, his hip touching Loki’s. Even heavily distracted from the constant stream of stimulation to his sensitive skin Loki took note, every muscle immediately hyper-aware of the proximity of that bulk. The Grandmaster, on the other hand, only continued his affections, keeping Loki turned so he could not fully observe the threat.

Karo did not seem offended. He stared in clear interest. “May I try him?”

Loki jerked back with a start, panting, but the movement nearly sent him further into the creature’s reach. Claws reached down and casually gripped themselves around Loki’s arm, their sharp points pressing into his armor.

The Grandmaster was staring into Loki’s eyes, his mouth quirked up. “That sounds like a great idea,” he agreed.

Loki’s heart didn’t just sink, it plummeted. 

His arousal, however, did not lower itself in accordance. He made the mistake of tightening his lips in response, then gasped as the sensation thrummed down his sensitized nerves. He jerked, but now was being held steady by two sets of hands.

His chest heaved as he fought for air. Norns, what had he agreed to?

“Lo here’s had a bit of a downer of a day,” the Grandmaster said, still all smiles. He rubbed his thumb deliberately over Loki’s lips, sending another jolt through his body. “I think he could really use some cheering up.”

He was pulled around with enough roughness that he squirmed, and the claws that had held him tightly began to pierce through his armor to keep him from pulling free. 

In a moment, rage and fear outpaced his want. He summoned a knife, but at the sound of the Grandmaster’s angry tone nearly dropped it.

“Hey, hey, _slow down_.”

The hands on Loki immediately released, his overeager accoster hissing as he stared at the Grandmaster in frustration and wariness. The rest of the contenders followed suit in their stillness. 

“You’ve gotta...gotta ease him into it,” the Grandmaster said. “Don’t just burst into the big peaks, all that rough stuff, no, no, no, no - you start slow. Right, stardust?” A hand came to Loki’s face, drawing his gaze around. “I’ve got a feeling that right now - what you _really_ need - is to be taken care of. And boy, do I just know the gosh darn best ways to take care of people.”

Loki felt it when the string finally snapped. The tears came fast, clouding his vision. Horrified, he struggled to blink them back.

The Grandmaster’s smile was serene. “For example,” he said, then pulled at Loki’s chin, drawing him in for a kiss. It began slow enough, but soon Loki was being pulled in deeper, the hand moving from his chin to his jaw. He felt the Grandmaster’s tongue request entry and he allowed it with a stifled sound he hoped was not as obvious to the onlookers. The pressure at his mouth grew, tingling through his skin, warm and inviting and stirring the now familiar raw ache that signaled his body’s willingness.

He pushed back, eagerly inviting the Grandmaster to continue, to swallow everything that he was. And when teeth clamped down over his lip, when he eventually noted the hand now gripping his throat, he only sank deeper.

The Grandmaster broke the kiss. Loki was left gasping, tears still swimming in his sight as the hand at his throat left. His hands were empty. The Grandmaster had taken his knife.

 _No,_ he wanted to say, but for what reason, he was not sure.

The Grandmaster suddenly frowned, running his eyes over the room. “What’s everyone standing around for? I said slow, not _dead._ Party favor’s all ready for you.”

Loki’s heart seized as his role for the night was made clear - the consequence for eagerly vying for the full attention and interest of a mad autocrat who viewed people as toys to entertain him. 

The clawed hands came back. Loki gave a token resistance as he was pulled from the couch, from the Grandmaster, and yanked into the center of several of the fighters. The edge of a protest was on his lips, but he did not dare speak it.

He should not feel the need to speak it. This would be but a simple task, like all the rest. 

His clothes were torn free, ripped apart by claws and blades. The Grandmaster watched, an obedience disc controller positioned demonstratively on his thigh. 

When Loki stood bare, held between firm grips, the Grandmaster rose and approached with a grin. He reached beneath his robes, pulling free a wide length of shimmering gold. “Had this made especially for you,” he said, pressing it against Loki’s neck.

A collar. Loki swallowed furiously, his skin reacting to the pressure of the leather as it had to the shackles the night before. The Grandmaster buckled it into place, cinching it just over the edge of what was comfortable.

Loki’s cock sprang up in immediate need. 

The Grandmaster pulled free a matching golden chain. He hooked it to the front of the collar, then brushed the backs of his knuckles against Loki’s cheek. “Let’s take care of you. It’s about...about time _someone_ did, don’t you think?”

Loki felt pressure at his shoulders and he went to his knees, his gasp stuttering out of him as the first of his tears finally dripped down his face. 

He was maneuvered face down upon the floor, a pillow placed beneath his face. While fibrous bonds were pulled tight around his wrists, he thought of a quiet room in the healing chambers of Asgard. 

Someone pressed a pill against his lips. He eagerly swallowed it down, hoping it would be of a considerable strength, anything to loosen his mind - stop him _thinking._

It did not disappoint. The world quickly grew into a hazy tangle pressing bodies, bruising grips and scraping teeth. The touches of the fighters were not gentle, but neither were they casually cruel. Then, as he was passed between them like a dog on a lead, the Grandmaster steadily coaxed them into being rougher.

His leash was ground taut into the floor by someone’s heel. Every shift he made against the leather washed down towards his untouched cock. Someone else was holding his bound wrists, effectively keeping him from summoning a knife without their knowledge. 

They still didn’t truly hurt him. Not until he began to ache for it in earnest, like a vicious thorny seed sprouting within him. He didn’t know if it was more the drugs, or his treated skin, or simply his own corrupt desires.

“Our intrepid mage wishes for his release,” the Grandmaster said from somewhere behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s going to step up and give the man what he wants?”

The answer, of course, was all of them.

\-------------

Loki woke the next morning in agony.

He ground out a noise from his throat, hands spasming against the blankets of his own bed as he tried to think through the screech of sharp, bright pain coming from his back.

He’d been returned to his quarters, after being handed around like a slab of meat for the Grandmaster’s most vicious fighters, all brought to heel at a word from their ruler. He couldn't recall what exactly had happened to put him in his current state. It felt like they’d tried to kill him.

Carefully, every twitch sending fresh pain down his shoulders and spine, he gathered his limbs beneath him. His breaths rocking through his chest, he ground his jaw and tried to push up.

The pain spiked.

He collapsed back down to the bed, unable to withstand it, gasping until the severity of it dimmed enough that he could again think.

Before he could make any sort of appreciable progress, there was a knock at his door. He tensed up in surprise, then immediately cried out as a ripple of pain branched down his back.

The door opened, and the Grandmaster’s cheery voice floated in. “I brought breakfast! Well, lunchfast. Late-afternoonfast. Thought you’d probably be taking it easy after that - that _stellar_ performance last night. The most amazing timing, you have. A little birdie told me Karo’s thinking of dedicating his match tonight to that beautiful ass of yours.”

There was the clinking of dishware as the Grandmaster began laying out whatever he’d brought. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, lazy buns. I want to see what you think of the kruna fruit.”

“Grandmaster,” Loki panted, sheets fisted in his hands. “I cannot move.”

“You can’t move?” The Grandmaster approached the bed. There was silence, and then a sigh. “I just… _look_ at this mess.”

The Grandmaster was greatly displeased. The uneasiness Loki felt at that was tempered by the fact that he did not sound as if he had been expecting whatever he was seeing. Which meant either he had not been present for its application, or… 

“It’s more of the side effects,” Loki said, closing his eyes.

“This isn’t right,” the Grandmaster said, his frustration rising. “I told R&D I wanted it all gone. The _incompetence_ \- doesn’t anyone listen to me? What am I bothering with, here?” He drew away. “I’ll be right back. Someone - I need to have a conversation with someone.”

“Grandmaster-” Loki tried, but the door had already closed.

\-------------

When the Grandmaster returned, Loki had managed to do little but languish in the center of his bed and take even breaths to manage the pain. An odd burning smell almost entirely overtook the room with his arrival. 

Loki knew that scent. Someone had recently met their end at the melt stick, and the remnants of the smoke caused by their burning atoms were caught in the fibers of the Grandmaster’s robes. 

“Okay, I’m back,” the Grandmaster said. “Had to...well, let’s just say a position opened up in the science department. Geez, you give people all the chances, and they just - walk all over your hard work. Really, you’re lucky you can’t see this. I like some corporal punishment as much as the next person, but boy would I have some pointers for whoever left these lash marks. Looks like they were pretty enthusiastic, at least.”

Loki could count on one hand the number of times he’d been whipped in his life. Only once had been so severe that he’d thought it would kill him. The wounds had eventually scarred, and then faded.

He’d invaded Earth, not long after.

“Okay, don’t worry,” the Grandmaster said. “Shiny new upgrade on its way. This next time...we’ll get everything.”

\-------------

Loki all but melted when his pain was dulled beneath the numbing agent. He had no idea if the procedure was as slow as the last, because mere minutes into it he simply fell unconscious. When he became aware again, the Grandmaster was urging him up from the table.

“Well, still a few hours before the Contest pre-show. I’m thinking hot tub, what do you say? Soak away the last of those...lingering aches. Give you some better ones to focus on.”

“Yes,” Loki answered, feeling too muzzy for a more adequate response.

Somehow, he managed to take the steps required to reach the steaming water. The Grandmaster assisted him, happily filling the silence with words that drifted over Loki’s head. He entered the pool and gratefully sank until the surface was level with his shoulders, all but moaning at the sensation. The heat was a bit uncomfortable against the newly fixed skin of his back, but it felt like the greatest relief in comparison to how he’d spent most of the morning. 

Hands. Chest. Face and neck. Now his back had become the largest section of altered flesh to join them.

The Grandmaster took him against the side of the hot tub. Loki clutched at the edge, the moisture making a steady grip difficult, while lips and teeth worked at the skin over his spine. 

“Look at you,” the Grandmaster purred against the back of his neck. “All better after the shambles I found you in this morning. Just think, what would you do without me?”

 _Rule over your planet,_ Loki thought as he arched into the next thrust. _Possibly read more._

”Nothing,” Loki responded. “I would be - lost.”

”But you were found,” the Grandmaster said. “And you are loved. It’s - that’s really what Sakaar’s all about.”

Loki keened as the Grandmaster raked his nails down his back.

\-------------

At that night’s fights, Loki sat in his usual spot on the far side of the couch. The Grandmaster liked him to keep distance during the fights, claiming that the show’s entertainment should take their full attention.

It was not normally a situation of complaint for Loki, being one of the few times of celebration in the Grandmaster’s presence where his thoughts were not overly clouded by intoxicants or arousal.

At least, not usually. With his entire back the source of his newest sensitivity, he quickly found that even the slightest pressure from leaning against the couch was far too distracting. And when he leaned forward, the pull of the leather across his skin was just as bad.

The Grandmaster periodically glanced at him as he fidgeted. Loki clutched his hands together and just tried to pretend to be very engaged in watching the engaging contenders tear each other apart instead of his slowly hardening cock.

It grew steadily worse. Loki cursed himself for choosing such tight clothing. There was a constant pulse through his back towards his crotch, and though Loki was now well acquainted with this particular side effect, it didn’t make it any less of a torment to endure.

By the final fight of the night, he’d bitten the inside of his cheek to ruin trying to contain himself. He swallowed down a mouthful of coppery saliva while Karo’s blood painted the arena floor as his opponent finished him off in a gruesome beheading.

The Grandmaster laughed in giddy glee while the crowd cheered. His rule about keeping separated at an end, he quickly crossed the couch to engage with Loki in celebration. Desperate with need, Loki eagerly reciprocated, magicking his clothing away with urgency. He did not even care if any of the other guests were still there to see.

The Grandmaster pressed Loki onto his back to fuck him, rocking him against the couch with such strength that the pleasure was almost worse than the pain from that morning.

”Didn’t even make it to my Champion,” the Grandmaster said pityingly, but with the edge of a smile pulling at his lips. “I guess, I guess I was wrong about ol’ Karo.”

Loki was determined that the Grandmaster would _not_ be wrong about him.

\----------

The next day, there was another mark. Faint, but unmistakable.

Loki stared at the tendrils that brushed up his forearm in weary resignation.

Unlike the confusion that had come with the previous blemishes, this one he knew instantly. He knew what weapon had caused it. He knew the wielder.

It was a scar made by lightning.

Like all the others brought forth by the side effects of the Grandmaster’s device, it had been long healed. A product of a time long passed.

Before ending up on Sakaar, in the face of Thor’s rage for Odin’s death and the skies darkening with storms, he’d wondered if he would end up with another one.

How long had it been since he’d washed up on this planet? It already felt as if it had been months. Months, and no time at all.

He would be rid of the mark. Just as he had been rid of all the rest.

Or - just as likely - the Grandmaster would simply think he was too much trouble at last, and kill him for it.

He carefully dressed, aware of the strangeness in the thickened tissue of his skin. He left his quarters, seeking out the Grandmaster.

The man was in audience with the woman who led his guards, joking about some creature that had sniveled and begged as they’d thrown him into the fighter’s pits. The new blood, to replace their recently lost contenders.

When he noticed Loki, he looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, you’re looking well rested,” he said. “Knew it wasn’t going to take much for you to bounce back.”

Loki did not respond. He removed his vambrace, pulled his sleeve up, and presented his forearm.

The Grandmaster’s voice faded. His gaze set on the branching tendrils running up Loki’s skin.

Loki’s jaw was set; he kept his voice flat. “Grandmaster,” he said. “I would ask that this time we do not bother with the numbing agent.”

The Grandmaster looked astounded. Then, quickly, that faded into something like joy. 

Loki was not surprised at its presence.

\-------------

He managed not to scream, but only just. The machine scored and divided his skin in a mixture of mechanical and energetic damage, then coated him in a substance that forced his cells to heal themselves at a heightened rate. He shook against the table, aware of the Grandmaster’s eyes on him, taking his pleasure from the way Loki endured.

Whether due to the lack of drugs or the relative ease of the mark's removal, Loki was not overly tired after the procedure. He was not even particularly drained from the sex with the Grandmaster that followed. 

His benefactor rewarded him generously for his willingness. Loki was given new rooms - large, extravagant, and located right beside the Grandmaster’s primary quarters.

When he was called to the hangar, he memorized yet more of the codes. Another step surpassed.

\-------------

There were no new scars in the morning. Loki took his time, inspecting every inch of his naked body in the mirror. Everything that had come before had been erased, and nothing new had emerged.

He gazed at himself. A slate wiped clean.

He didn’t quite know when it was he’d summoned the knife. Or why it was that he thought it beneficial to gently trace the point over the skin of his forearm, mapping from memory the lines that had once marred it. 

He could call forth the image of that jagged branching of red with his magic. It would be only an illusion, but with the knife he could follow the path and make it real.

He stared at his unbroken skin for a long time. 

When the summons came for the party, he left his room unmarked.

It was easy, he thought. So easy, to let go once again.


End file.
